


And What Earthquake Tore the Veil

by crna_macka



Category: The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Implied Relationships, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 21:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20365699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crna_macka/pseuds/crna_macka
Summary: It's not about Nell, but it is. It's not about Theo, but it is. And it's never about Shirley. It just isn't.





	And What Earthquake Tore the Veil

**Author's Note:**

> The Crain sisters are literally every lesfic romance blurb about women who HAVE HAD THEIR HEARTS BROKEN just need someone to TEAR DOWN THE WALLS around their SQUISHY, VULNERABLE SOULS and also how do you solve a problem like Shirley fucking Crain.

_That thorough fucking shame,_ Theo said. _I just needed to_ feel. _A light in the darkness._

Shirley doesn’t want to say she understands. She feels empty without Nell, too, but she’s sure it’s not the same. She’s scared of understanding just what it takes to break someone as self-assured as Theo; she sends Kevin away and feels empty, but that’s not the same as feeling _nothing_. 

She invites Theo over, and sometimes Trish comes, too. Sometimes it’s just the two of them, the Crain sisters, with an empty space between them where Nell should be. It bothers Shirley, the knowledge that she can’t mend this stark sign of death to be more seamless. She keeps coming back to it, and Theo, without saying as much, lets her. Trish stops coming, and Shirley starts to reach into that sister-shaped space, trying to find a way to smooth it back to life.

There are times Theo catches her staring into that space and stares back intently, her gaze unwavering even when Shirley’s eyes refocus on the present, the living. Shirley could almost swear her sister smiles with actual warmth when their eyes meet.

No matter what Theo says about why she moved into Shirley’s guest house, that warmth she carries was always there for Nell. As the oldest, the most responsible one -- Shirley could never afford it, and it rarely afforded to her. But any and every allowance for Nell; that was how they all operated. When Shirley needed to step up, she always knew -- Theo would be there for Nell. Shirley could be cold and hard when her brothers and sisters needed, because she knew -- Theo would be twice as warm and soft with Nell, better than Shirley could see herself being.

But now Nell’s space is empty, and Shirley isn’t sure what she sees.

\---

“You want to talk?” Theo says, her voice flat like she expects to be rebuffed. She works a nail under the label on her second bottle of the night. 

“And say what?” Shirley wants to know. “What can I say that I haven’t said?”

There is a movie on that she hasn’t been watching and a glass of wine that she’s forgotten. She tucks her feet under her and wishes she’d stop noticing the cushion between her ankle and Theo’s thigh, the right amount of space for someone to slouch between them, probably lean against Theo’s shoulder.

In that case, though, Shirley wouldn’t even be here. She’d have a chair to herself. But Nell would still lean, and Theo would let her. 

“Whatever it is that you’re thinking when you’re staring at me,” Theo says. Actual Theo, actually sitting next to her. Because it’s just the two of them anymore, and Shirley feels lost without someone between them. What does “reliable” even look like; what is she supposed to do? She huffs a laugh at herself, picks up the wine glass, and drains its contents. Stubbornly, Theo doesn’t look away.

“I’m not staring at you,” Shirley says. “It’s not you.”

Theo raises a perfectly shaped, perfectly pointed eyebrow.

“It’s never been us.” Shirley hears herself, and the words that she didn’t know she didn’t want to say.

“I _lived_ here with you,” Theo points out, and Shirley can’t tell if she hears a twinge of annoyance or hurt. “What’s never been us?”

Shirley shakes her head. If she can’t articulate it to herself, she certainly doesn’t want to try to say it out loud. “It was always you and Nell, or you and me and Nell,” Shirley says anyway, her mouth moving traitorously. When she sees Theo’s expression start to shift, she tries to get ahead of it. “And now it’s just you and me. It doesn’t _feel_ right.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Theo asks, somehow sounding more curious than angry.

“I don’t know,” Shirley admits. Quietly.

She can hear Theo slip into analyst mode. “Separate. Nell didn’t like having boundaries. You and I do.”

“Yeah,” Shirley agrees, but she somehow doesn’t feel relieved. If anything, she feels _anxious_, probing this emptiness with Theo. “I just...”

“Now it’s just boundaries.”

Theo’s words are crystal clear and, like always, cut straight to the heart. Shirley feels a knot loosen and break, and there, Theo’s right -- in the emptiness, now she sees hurt. And need.

\---

The worst part of that need is that it’s Shirley’s. And the boundaries, now that Theo has taken her gloves off, are Shirley’s. And that emptiness, that’s Shirley’s. Nell just happened to cover it, once upon a time.

Shirley’s fingers twitch and tremble before she curls them more tightly into the denim above her knee. She squeezes her eyes shut and counts to ten and her head reminds her that inhaling pinot grigio makes it spin.

“Shirley.”

And then there’s a startling heat, Theo’s hand closing over hers, gently prying it loose.

“Shir, you’ve got to let it go. There’s nothing to fix. There isn’t any little sister to protect.”

“Then why do I feel like there is?” Shirley tries to pull her hand away, but Theo holds on, her eyes narrowing as her grip tightens, and worse -- worse, Shirley can feel her gaze turn sharp, raking as Theo does that _thing_ she’s always done -- where she tears past every wall, every shadow, to the deep dark root that scares the _shit_ out of Shirley--

“Jesus, Shirl,” Theo whispers, echoing the bitter ache, and Shirley goes still. “Stop being so scared of being _human_.”

“Fuck you,” Shirley manages, but that’s all. The last shred of resistance, so small and weak, collapsing under Theo’s watery smile.

“Nell wants us to take care of each other. That includes letting someone take care of you.”

Shirley presses her lips together, holding the rawness in her throat until it reshapes as words. “I can’t.”


End file.
